


Tender Spots

by Laedes



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laedes/pseuds/Laedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian’s away for a couple of weeks. Mickey didn’t plan on growing a beard in his absence, but that’s what happens anyway. (Post season 4. Written before season 5 started airing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Spots

Ian’s leaving and it’s all Lip’s fucking fault.

The door of Mickey’s house is open and Lip’s standing outside on the porch, lighting a cigarette. Ian and Mickey are in the front room and Lip’s pretending – and failing – not to be paying attention to them. It gets on Mickey’s nerves, the way Lip not-so-discreetly keeps an eye on them whenever they all happen to be in the same vicinity. Like Lip’s biding his time somehow, still waiting for Mickey to fuck up and prove that Lip’s been right about him from the start. However, since Ian is about to spend the next couple of weeks away with his brother, Mickey figures that now is not the time to pick a fight with him.

Lip’s got this thing in Boston. Part of an exchange program or something. Mickey’s a bit fuzzy on the details, but it involves him spending two weeks on campus there, working in the labs with a handful of other college students and going to some lectures. All expenses covered, with a room of his own and everything. And he’s asked Ian to come with him as a visitor. Mickey’s not sure how official or even legal the whole arrangement is, but still, Ian has accepted and he’s already cleared his absence both with school, getting assigned with a couple of reports to write about the experience, and with his therapist, so he’s going.

Ian’s duffel bag’s at his feet and he’s putting on his jacket, smiling at Mickey. There’s a tightness in Mickey’s chest that he hasn’t been able to shake off since last night and it feels even worse now that Ian is only minutes away from leaving. They haven’t been apart for more than a couple of days at a time ever since Ian came back, except for Ian’s stays at the hospital last year. And Mickey knows, he knows, okay, that Ian is leaving for entirely different reasons now, that it is _fine_ , but the anxiety is there anyway, gnawing at him.

Mickey suddenly notices Ian’s smile slipping away and he wants to kick himself for it. Of course Ian would pick up on Mickey’s apprehension. Head slightly tilted, mouth set in a straight line, Ian is looking at him in that peculiar way he has, cutting right through Mickey’s bullshit facade. Mickey starts worrying that Ian will feel the need to reassure him there and then, with Lip listening in, but Ian doesn’t say anything. He simply takes a step forward, puts his hands on Mickey’s cheeks, tilts Mickey’s head up, and then proceeds to kiss him, so deeply and so sweetly that it almost makes Mickey’s teeth ache. Fucking Gallagher.

Mickey pulls Ian against him, grabbing the front of his jacket for leverage. Ian puts one arm around Mickey’s waist, his big hand splayed over the small of Mickey’s back, holding him there, just the way Mickey likes it. He likes it even better when he hears Lip groan and walk away. Mickey smirks against Ian’s lips and he feels Ian smile in return before pulling away slightly. He gazes at Mickey’s face, his thumb stroking Mickey’s jaw, and then, apparently satisfied with what he sees there now, gives him a short kiss before letting him go.

Ian straightens his jacket and picks up his duffel bag. Mickey follows him to the doorway and glances outside. Lip’s waiting in the car, still smoking his cigarette. Mickey’s contemplating making him wait longer when he feels Ian brush past him on his way out of the house.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” he says, turning around to look at Mickey.

“Yeah, okay.”

Ian smiles at him and then walks to the car, climbs into the passenger seat while Lip turns on the ignition. Lip’s car is a piece of junk and Mickey would like to say he’s surprised that it’s still running, but he’s seen Kev’s ice cream truck and he knows Lip’s just that good with engines. Ian rolls down his window to wave at Mickey. Mickey nods in return and watches from his front step as they drive off. He stands there for a minute after they’re gone, then he goes back inside to get ready for work. 

• • •

Ian calls him in the evening, as promised, just as Mickey’s putting Yevgeny to bed. Mickey knows Ian, he’s pretty certain he did it on purpose. He puts him on speakerphone while he finishes getting Yev ready and settled into his crib for the night.

Lip and Ian’s first day on the road was rather uneventful but Mickey’s content just listening to Ian and watching Yev’s reactions – his eyes widening in surprise and then in recognition when Ian’s voice suddenly fills the room, causing him to smack his lips with delight and reach out with his tiny hands, excitedly opening and closing his fingers in the air. Ian laughs when he hears Yev’s happy little shouts – “Een! Een!” – and Mickey’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. Still, he smiles down at Yev and rubs his tummy while Ian goes on about his and Lip’s plans for tomorrow. He then asks Mickey about his day and Mickey tells him, speaking low, because Yev’s calmed down and is starting to drop off.

“I miss you already,” Ian says when Mickey’s finished.

“You’re such a sap,” Mickey replies, but he’s pleased and relieved it’s not just him. “It hasn’t even been a day yet.”

“So what? You don’t miss me?”

“Course I miss you. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re schmaltzy as fuck.”

Ian snorts.

“Right. Tell Mandy I said hi, okay? I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They exchange goodnights and then Ian hangs up. Mickey sighs and puts the phone back in his pocket. Yev’s fully asleep, so Mickey just makes sure he’s properly tucked in, turns off the lights in the bedroom – Svetlana’s bedroom now– and then leaves the door ajar before walking away.

Svetlana’s out for the night, but Mandy’s shift at the diner ends in an hour or so, so Mickey decides he’ll go and watch TV in the living room until she gets back home. He doesn’t want to think about going to bed just yet, not when he knows Ian won’t be joining him later tonight, nor any other night for over two weeks, and yeah, maybe he’s growing soft, and just as fucking sappy as his boyfriend, but nobody has to know. 

• • •

Mickey didn’t plan on growing a beard in Ian’s absence but that’s what happens. He breaks his razor the day after Ian’s gone – it was a cheap one that Mickey swiped from the drugstore, so it’s no big deal, but since Ian’s not there, Mickey can’t borrow _his_ razor instead. He figures he’ll just forego shaving for a day or two until he can get to the store, but as it turns out, over the following week, he’s always either too busy or too tired to do just that, and so his stubble starts growing into a short, scruffy beard.

Svetlana gives him looks but doesn’t comment on it. Mickey suspects she doesn’t say anything because they’ve discovered, much to everyone’s surprise, that Yev is a big fan of the beard. Mickey’s careful whenever he’s holding or kissing him, because he doesn’t want to accidentally give the kid beard burn, but Yev’s new favorite pastime is getting his hands on his dad’s face and feeling the bristly hair there under his fingers and palms. He often ends up poking Mickey in the eye or punching him in the nose in the process, which, of course, never fails to amuse Mandy. But Mickey still puts Yev on his knees and lets him touch his face for as long as he likes, puffing up his cheeks or pretending to bite Yev’s curious fingers just to hear him shriek and giggle.

Mandy eventually takes pity on him and buys him a new razor. Mickey can see her point – his beard is a little patchy and not all that attractive, but honestly, he doesn’t care. Plus Ian’s away, so Mickey supposes it doesn’t really matter if he lets it grow a little bit more. He’ll just shave it off before Ian comes back. 

• • • 

Ian calls Mickey almost everyday. He also sends him texts and even pictures, which Mickey saves on his phone so he can look at them again during the day and sometimes at night, when he’s lying in bed and having trouble falling asleep. He doesn’t tell Ian, but then again, he doesn’t need to tell Ian these things, which is why Ian keeps sending him pictures even though Mickey’s replies are only ever terse messages. Mickey’s not the only one getting pictures, of course: he knows Mandy does, too, because she’s shown him, and then there’s Ian’s siblings.

Mickey’s picking up Yev from the Gallaghers’ after work. He’s had to pull some extra hours this week, so he’s asked Debbie to look after the kid for him. She’s going through some of Ian’s most recent pictures on Mickey’s phone, commenting on them and comparing them to the ones she’s received, while Mickey’s gathering up Yev’s stuff. Carl, who wandered into the living room a little earlier, is munching a pop tart and looking at the pictures over Debbie’s shoulder.

“So, do you guys sext and stuff while Ian’s away?” Carl asks.

It takes a second for Mickey to process the question. He likes Carl, he swears he does, but the kid’s blunt curiosity always unsettles him. Ian manages to take it in stride and does his best to answer his little brother’s questions as honestly as he can but Mickey’s still not fucking used to it.

“Does he send you dick pics?” Carl continues, undeterred.

“What the fuck, man,” Mickey groans. “That’s your brother we’re talking about.”

“Does he, though?” Debbie seconds, glancing up at him.

“D’you think I’d let you go through my phone if it had pictures of Ian’s dick on it?”

Carl shrugs. Debbie looks back down at Mickey’s phone, considering, but Mickey reaches out and snatches it back before either of the younger Gallaghers gets ideas and starts snooping through his messages.

“Why did you stop shaving?” Carl asks next. “Is it because Ian’s not here and you’re depressed?”

“I’m not depressed, I’m just fucking lazy,” Mickey shoots back.

He glances around the living room to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything but it looks like he’s finally good to go. The sooner he can get away from Carl’s barrage of questions, the better. But then the boy pipes up again.

“Aren’t you sad Ian’s not here, though?”

Mickey sighs. Debbie looks much too entertained by the whole situation – she’s not going to open her mouth and help him out.

“Well, yeah,” Mickey admits. “But he’s gonna be back soon, so.”

“You’re not worried, then?”

Mickey peers at Carl. He’s not as close to the kid as Ian is, but he’s hung around the both of them enough to know that this is not about Mickey anymore. Carl just has this roundabout way of asking about things that puzzle or worry him by asking other people how they feel about it. Better not fuck this up, then.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Mickey says. “I know where he is and what he’s doing. I know when he’s coming back. And Lip’s with him. It’s all good.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with him?” Carl insists.

“Can’t afford going off for a couple of weeks just like that,” Mickey shrugs. “But Ian’s a grown-ass man. I gotta trust him.”

Carl nods. It seems like Mickey’s successfully staved off further questioning – for now, at least – and he inwardly lets out a sigh of relief. Time to go. He takes Yev in his arms and tucks him up against his side before picking up the bag with all of Yev’s stuff in it with his free hand.

He can’t resist getting back at the kids by teasing them a little before leaving, though.

“Plus, you know,” he adds casually, “the phone sex’s amazing.”

Debbie’s eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” she blurts.

“Man, Ian knows how to dirty talk,” Mickey goes on, smirking now, laying it on thick. Carl’s already cracking up. “His voice gets real deep, too, real nice. Really gets me going.”

“Uugh, stop it!” Debbie exclaims, pushing him away. She’s not putting any force behind it – he’s carrying Yev in his arms, after all – but Mickey lets her steer him to the front door, giving her his best shit-eating grin all the while.

“Bye Mickey!” Carl shouts from the living room.

“You’re so gross, I swear,” Debbie tells Mickey, shaking her head.

“Your big brother loves it,” he quips, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Debbie rolls her eyes but she brings him the stroller and holds his bag for him while he buckles Yev in, so he figures they’re still cool. He can’t help but love Debbie, gaudy outfits and hidden shanks and all; she reminds him of a younger Mandy. Not that it surprises Mickey: ever since Ian moved in with them, Debbie’s been spending a lot of time around Mandy – and Svetlana. That doesn’t always sit well with Fiona, but Mickey thinks they’re a huge fucking improvement over the skanky mean girls Debbie still hangs around with sometimes – especially the tall bitchy blonde one, Holly or Hayley or whatever her name is.

For all that, there’s still a certain softness to Debbie – not the kind of softness Mickey despises in other people, but the kind that reminds him of Ian. She puts up a hard front, but he keeps catching glimpses of that same sweetness – like now, for instance, watching her crouch down next to Yev’s stroller so that she can give him a tickle and and a kiss and tell him goodbye.

Then she stands up and punches Mickey in the arm before she tells _him_ goodbye. Mickey lets out an exaggerated yelp, even though it barely hurt, which makes her laugh. He smiles and gives her a gentle shove before walking away, pushing Yev’s stroller. He’s really grown a soft spot for Gallaghers, especially the ginger ones. 

• • • 

In the end, Mickey doesn’t have time to shave his beard before Ian comes back.

It’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s walking home with Mandy after waiting for her at the end of her shift at the diner. He usually gets a cup of coffee out of it, but this time Mandy managed to sneak in a complimentary waffle too, so he’s feeling pretty good. And then he sees Lip’s crappy car across the street, parked in front of the house, and he swears his heart skips a fucking beat.

Lip and Ian were only supposed to come back tomorrow. Mickey slows down, confused for a second, but then, if Lip’s car is here, Ian is here too, and that single thought drowns out all others. He looks at Mandy, expecting her to be a bit puzzled too, but she’s giving him the world’s biggest, smuggest grin instead.

“You knew about this?” he asks, frowning at her.

“Yeah, Ian sent me a text this morning,” she explains. “Told me not to tell you, though, wanted it to be a surprise. You know Ian, he loves that kinda shit.”

Mickey shakes his head. Sounds like Ian alright. He feels almost light-headed as they cross the street and climb the front steps of the house. He lets Mandy go in first, not wanting to appear too eager, even though he’s thrumming with anticipation by now. Everything feels too tight – his skin, his lungs, his fucking ribcage. There are voices coming from the kitchen and Mickey follows Mandy there to find Lip and Ian sitting at the table, talking and drinking – a beer for Lip, a glass of pop for Ian.

Ian gets up as soon as he sees Mandy. He envelops her in a big hug, grinning from ear to ear, exchanging greetings and words of endearment. Then he raises his head a little and sees Mickey standing behind her. As soon as their eyes meet, Mickey feels like his heart’s just been jump-started, faltering for a second before going a mile a minute in his chest. They’re kind of having a moment there but of course Lip manages to ruin it because he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Wow, Mickey!” he exclaims. “Nice beard you’ve got there, man. Are you trying to hide from the authorities? Did you do something we should know about?”

Mickey just glares at him and flips him off. He goes to the fridge to get a couple of beers while Mandy and Ian disentangle themselves to sit at the table. He opens the beers, puts one in front of Mandy, and sits down across from her, next to Ian.

“Where’s Yev? And Svetlana?” Ian asks.

“At the park,” Mandy replies. “They’re meeting up with some girlfriends of hers.”

Ian nods. After that, the conversation moves on to his and Lip’s trip. They talk about various things they’ve seen and done, share funny anecdotes, laugh over some embarrassing moments. It sounds like they both had a great time and Mickey feels a little envious that Lip got to do all that stuff with Ian. He’s being childish, he knows, but he can’t help it.

It doesn’t mean that he’s not happy for Ian, though. Ian and his brother went through a rough patch after Ian was diagnosed. They fought much more then than they ever did before and their arguments often circled back to Ian’s relationship with Mickey and his decision to move in with the Milkoviches rather than stay with his own family. Mickey’s fully aware that Lip never expected him to put up with Ian’s bipolar ass for very long and that he was, in his own fucked-up way, trying to protect his brother from the inevitable fallout. Things didn’t turn out the way Lip thought, however, and so he eventually relented, but Mickey’s been along to enough of Ian’s therapy sessions to know that a fair amount of work went into reconnecting with his brother and getting to this point – spending time together, having fun, being close like they used to.

Mandy asks plenty of questions and reacts enthusiastically enough to Lip and Ian’s stories that Mickey doesn’t feel the need to make efforts to contribute more actively to the conversation. His focus is entirely on Ian. Their knees are pressed together under the table and Ian’s arm brushes against his whenever he raises his glass to his lips or gestures to illustrate whatever he’s talking about. Each touch is hot like a brand on Mickey’s skin, impossible to ignore.

Ian keeps glancing at him, too. Mickey meets his gaze a couple of times, sees the way Ian’s eyes flick to Mickey’s mouth, his chin, his cheeks. Mickey self-consciously runs a hand over his jaw and feels just how bristly it is now under his fingers. He wonders what Ian thinks of the beard. Does he like it? Maybe he doesn’t and he’s just waiting for the two of them to be alone to ask Mickey to go and shave it off before he even thinks about kissing Ian. Mickey frowns. Well, fuck that. He’ll kiss Ian first and go about shaving later. It’s been two weeks, Ian can fucking deal with a little beard burn.

He doesn’t know how long it is before Lip downs the last of his beer and gets ready to leave, but it feels like hours to Mickey. They accompany him to the front door, except Mandy who wanders off down the hallway and into her bedroom.

“Don’t forget, dinner tomorrow,” Lip tells Ian. “I swear Fiona will literally come down here and haul your ass all the way to the house if you don’t show up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian replies. Then, noticing Mickey’s quizzical look, he explains : “Fiona wants us all to come over for this big family dinner. I told her we’d be there, I hope that’s okay with you.”

Mickey needs Ian to clarify.

“By us, you mean…”

“Well, you, me. Mandy. Yev. Hell, Svetlana too if she wants. Family, you know.”

Mickey nods, biting his lip. He can appreciate that.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Alright,” Lip says. “See you tomorrow.”

Then he’s outside, raising his hand in a vague salute as he walks away. Mickey’s about to close the front door when Mandy reappears. She’s changed clothes and she looks ready to go out – she’s put on a jacket and she’s carrying her purse. Mickey raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t aware his sister had plans.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” she tells Ian before hugging him. “I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Ian replies, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Later, Mands.”

She pulls away from him, turns to Mickey and gives him a wink. She doesn’t really have plans, Mickey realizes. She’s just giving him some alone time with Ian. She slips out of the house before Mickey can even react but man, he’s gonna owe her one for that.

Then Ian grabs him by the front of his t-shirt and gently, but firmly, pushes him back against the closed door, and all thoughts of his sister quickly go flying out of Mickey’s head as Ian starts kissing him.

He puts his arms around Ian’s waist and Ian lets go of his t-shirt to slide his hands up Mickey’s chest. He grasps Mickey’s shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, and fuck, Mickey’s missed this – missed him – so much. Ian’s mouth tastes sweet, like the pop he’s been drinking, and his clothes smell like cigarette smoke and cheap laundry detergent, and he just feels so warm, so solid in Mickey’s arms. He grips the back of Ian’s shirt, pressing up against him, and doesn’t even bother holding back a moan when Ian pins him right back against the door with his body.

“Shit,” Ian groans.

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes.

He unclenches his hands and puts them on Ian’s back, stroking it lazily, keeping him close, while Ian ducks his head to nuzzle at Mickey’s neck and to rub his cheek against his. Mickey tilts his head back as Ian starts running his lips along his jaw, peppering it with small, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmh. You turn into a big cat or something?” Mickey teases.

Ian gives his chin a playful nip and gets a breathy chuckle in return. He pulls away to look at Mickey.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to do that,” Ian says.

“Do what? Bite me?”

“Kiss you, smartass.”

“Thought you would be kinda used to it by now,” Mickey teases.

“Well, the beard’s new.”

“The beard, uh? That does it for you?”

“Yeah,” Ian replies, unabashed. “You had one when you worked at the Kash and Grab, remember? I thought it was fucking hot. Wasn’t allowed to kiss you, though.”

Of course Mickey remembers. Best summer of his life – until Frank came and fucked it all up. Fucking Frank. And he remembers the way Ian would look at him sometimes. They’d be fucking in the back of the store, or sharing a joint in the dugouts, or just hanging out together, shooting the shit, when he would catch Ian staring at his mouth. He knew, in those moments, that Ian was thinking about kissing him, was perhaps even working up the courage to do so, but he also knew that he wouldn’t dare in the end. Mickey himself wasn’t sure how he’d react – whether he’d would kiss Ian back or punch him in the face – but there were times when he wished Ian would go ahead and try so Mickey could finally find out.

God, he was such a fucking idiot then.

Ian’s gentle touch brings him back to the present. He’s caressing Mickey’s face, tracing his jawline with his fingers. There’s a twinkle in his eye and a coy smile playing on his lips. Mickey raises an eyebrow.

“You know,” Ian says, “I’ve never kissed a man with a beard before.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm. Always wondered what it would feel like.”

“And? What d’you think?”

Ian doesn’t answer him right away, makes a pretence of considering it first.

“I think I like it.”

“D’you want to take this to the bedroom? Find out what else you might like?”

They’re both full-on grinning now. Mickey squeezes Ian’s ass and it seems that’s all the encouragement Ian needed to push himself away and make his way to the bedroom. Mickey follows on his heels, totally unconcerned about appearing too eager now. 

• • • 

When Mickey wakes up, he’s partly draped over Ian’s back. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but Ian’s here, in bed, with him, so Mickey’s not about to complain. He tucks his right arm, currently flung out over the mattress, back underneath him, and pushes himself up slightly, hoping the movement won’t jostle Ian awake just yet.

He eyes Ian’s back for a minute, the familiar pale, freckled expanse of it, relishing the feeling of contentment, tinged with arousal, that washes over him at the sight. He lowers his head and kisses Ian’s soft, warm skin. He grazes the gentle slope of his shoulderblade with his lips, then goes on to nuzzle the back of his neck.

Ian starts shifting underneath him. Mickey moves back a little, giving Ian enough space to roll over onto his back. Mickey presses himself up against his side, leaning on his elbow to look down at him. Ian’s hair is mussed and Mickey runs his free hand through it, combing it back with his fingers.

“Whatcha smilin’ at?” Ian asks sleepily.

“Your dumb face.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one with beard burn.”

Ian frowns.

“Here,” Mickey says, brushing Ian’s chin with the tip of his finger. Ian winces. “You’re all red. Beard burn.”

Mickey glances down and notices some other small reddened patches of skin on Ian’s neck and chest. He runs his fingers over these too, very lightly, paying close attention to Ian’s reactions – the barely-there shudders, the sharp little intakes of breath. Mickey doesn’t need to look to know that Ian’s probably got beard burn on the inside of his thighs, too. He slips his hand between Ian’s legs and smirks when Ian winces again.

“Aww, fuck you,” Ian gasps.

He’s making no effort to dislodge Mickey’s hand, though. Mickey gives Ian’s thigh a squeeze before moving his hand away so that he can lay his arm across Ian’s waist.

“Does it look that bad?” Ian asks.

“No, it’s okay. It’s noticeable, though.”

“Shit. Everyone’s gonna have a fucking field day with this, aren’t they?”

“Fuck ‘em. We can just stay here.”

“No, no, we can’t. I promised Fiona.” Ian sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Okay, you know what? I’m just going to put some lotion on it. And you’re going to shave.”

“I thought you liked the beard,” Mickey points out.

“I do,” Ian says, looking back at Mickey with a smile. “I still like you better without it.”

Mickey shrugs. It’s not like he was planning on keeping it anyway. He thinks he might have, if Ian had really liked it that much, but he’s kind of relieved he doesn’t have to. Too much fucking upkeep in the long run.

“Thanks, though,” Ian adds, raising a hand to caress Mickey’s cheek. “That beard’s definitely helped fulfill some old teenage fantasies.”

“Yeah? Well, you know me,” Mickey says, “always glad to be of service.”

Ian laughs, his body shaking lightly against Mickey’s. Mickey’s feeling stupidly happy, lying in bed with Ian, just the two of them for a few more hours until they have to get up and deal with the outside world again. He’s probably grinning like a loon right now. He knows there’s no point in trying to hide it, really, but still he ducks his head. Old habits. Ian moves his hand from Mickey’s cheek to the back of his head and rubs it gently as Mickey starts dropping kisses on Ian’s shoulder, idly following the pattern of his freckles.

“Missed you,” Mickey murmurs against Ian’s skin.

Ian’s hand stills on the back of Mickey’s neck. Mickey raises his head. The look Ian’s giving him is one of love, and longing, that Mickey’s seen countless times over the years. It’s always been there, that look, just for him, right from the start, even back when he didn’t want to see it – or told himself he didn’t want to see it. It's always made him feel bare, exposed. It used to frighten him, but not anymore. So he doesn’t move, lets Ian look, and then Ian’s expression shifts, softens. It becomes less intense, more playful, as he rolls onto his side to face Mickey, putting an arm around him, slipping a leg in-between Mickey’s.

“I’m here now,” Ian tells him. “And I can think of a couple other fantasies we could fulfill. If you’re, you know, still willing to help.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows. He slides his hand down to grab Ian’s ass, pulling him flush against him, letting him feel exactly how _willing_ Mickey is. Ian’s grin widens, goes from teasing to predatory, and yeah, Mickey’s gonna get it – again – and get it good.

“Guess you don’t mind those beard burns so much, uh?” Mickey says.

“I’ll deal,” Ian replies, before pulling Mickey in for a kiss.


End file.
